Search and Rescue
by Mizvoy
Summary: Tom Paris travels into deep space to check on Seven of Nine.  While hiding from the Borg, they have the chance to talk about life and love—and about Janeway and Chakotay, too.  JC


Author's note: This story was written as part of VAMB's Steamy Summer Gift Exchange.

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager is the property of CBS/Paramount. No infringement intended.

Summary: Tom Paris travels into deep space to check on Seven of Nine. While hiding from the Borg, they have the chance to talk about life and love—and about Janeway and Chakotay, too.

Search and Rescue

By mizvoy

"Well, this is a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into." Tom Paris folded his arms and stared at the boiling red and blue gasses of the nebula that hid the damaged Delta Flyer from their pursuers. "What are the chances that they'll come in here looking for us?"

"Slim," Seven of Nine responded from the engineering station at the back of the command deck. "The Borg won't risk damaging their tactical sphere to pursue us here. They'll wait for the nebula's volatile gasses to destroy us. Failing that, they'll resume their attack if and when we manage to escape."

"Either way, our goose is cooked."

Seven made no comment except to raise a delicate eyebrow at his colloquialism, something she'd learned to tolerate on Voyager. Her work in the astrometrics lab had necessitated frequent consultation with the chief pilot, and she had learned that his more irritating qualities, including his penchant for puns and old-fashioned terminology, were balanced by the good.

"We can hope that the Acropolis will find us first," she answered, returning to her console.

"I'd agree if this sphere hadn't already adapted to the quantum torpedoes from the future. We need a miracle."

Seven ignored his pessimism and focused her attention on the ship. The warp engine was permanently offline, but at least there was enough residual power for both life support and the ablative shields, and with any luck she would soon be able to restore the sensors and minimal subspace communication.

"How about some lunch?" Paris stood at the steps leading to the rear compartment. "Should I break out the emergency rations? Or should we splurge and use the replicators while we still can?"

"We have adequate power for the replicators," she answered, suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn't eaten in nearly twelve hours. "I'll have tomato soup with noodles, please."

"Coming right up."

Paris stepped into the darkness of the rear compartment, glad to have a few minutes alone. The running battle with the Borg sphere had left him physically shaken and emotionally drained, and they both knew that they had limped into this volatile nebula with just seconds to spare, thanks only to the Admiral's shields from the future. The blinding flash of the sphere's last few phaser blasts were still burned into his retinas.

As he prepared their food, he thought about the last time he'd used his wits to keep a ship in one piece, eighteen months earlier during Voyager's improbable trip through the Borg hub and spectacular arrival in the Alpha Quadrant. That had been his last brush with real danger, except for his fairly routine work as a test pilot, and he suspected that his more sedate, secure lifestyle had made him soft. Oddly enough, he liked it that way.

"Good news," Seven announced as she took her soup bowl from his tray. "We have sensors."

"And the Borg?"

"Still waiting right outside the nebula."

"Great." He took a seat across from her and stirred his soup, trying to think of a solution to their problem. "If we got our impulse engines online, we could move far enough away from them to use the subspace transceiver."

"The transceiver is my next project. Perhaps you could work on restoring the impulse engines."

"Sounds like a plan." They ate in silence before Paris asked the question that had been plaguing him since the Flyer had taken the first salvo of Borg weapons hours earlier. "I thought the idea was to keep our distance until we confirmed that the Borg were some of your pals from Unimatrix Zero."

"In recent weeks, the new Queen has had her drones pose as Free Borg, part of her tireless campaign to reclaim or wipe out any drone who escaped the Collective when we destroyed Unimatrix Zero. I've been working on a way to tell the difference without putting our ships in danger, but, obviously, I still haven't solved the problem."

"And in the meantime, you keep putting your own life on the line by scouting your sightings alone?"

She gave him a level look. "You insisted on accompanying me."

"And a good thing I did. There's no way you would have escaped that assault without a pilot."

"I do owe you my life," she agreed. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me until we get out of this alive."

"You think I'm taking needless risks?"

"The thought has occurred to me."

Seven frowned, obviously concerned about his opinion of her. "The destruction of the hub and sudden death of the Queen gave us a brief window of opportunity that we can't fritter away. We must actively seek out the Free Borg before the new Queen finds and destroys them."

"Oh, I know what your goal is, and it's a noble one. I just don't think it's worth risking your life for."

Seven looked away, fighting tears, still struggling to control the tangle of feelings that had plagued her ever since the Borg dampener had been removed. The panic she'd felt on their arrival in the Alpha Quadrant had nearly overwhelmed her, and she had survived because Voyager's crew had rallied around her during the first days. She had still been fragile when disaster struck, just two months later, bringing with it her new r_aison__ d'être_.

A Starfleet vessel had come across the debris of a tactical sphere that had been under control of Free Borg. Seven had been intrigued by the information and had immediately traveled to the site for a closer examination. She'd discovered that the sphere had been destroyed months earlier by Borg weapons' fire—apparently a victim of the Queen's decision to track down and destroy the drones who had escaped from the Collective. It was purely by accident that she found several members of the same species as Axum, the man who'd been her lover in Unimatrix Zero.

The realization that the Queen was hunting down the Free Borg drones threw Seven into a depression that had faded only when she decided to dedicate herself to the rescue of any remaining Free Borg still alive—and search for Axum in the process. Starfleet decided that a search and rescue operation would be beneficial to the Federation, and Seven had been assigned to advise the Acropolis as it looked for surviving Free drones.

They had been successful at first, tracking down two cubes and several spheres. Those drones were now having many of their implants removed by Federation doctors on a remote planet in the Alpha Quadrant. Soon they would be able to join Seven in her quest, but in the meantime, Acropolis had run out of luck, and Seven herself had become the new Queen's target.

Members of the Collective posed as Free Borg drones in order to lure Seven to them with the goal of reassimilating her. In order to protect the rest of Acropolis' crew, Seven had begun to scout for potential contacts by taking out shuttles on her own, a process that had put her life in danger and had simultaneously made Janeway nervous.

"I'm sorry, Tom, if my sense of urgency put your life in danger."

"We're all right so far. I just worry about what will happen to you once I go back to Earth."

"The Free drones will be joining me soon. In the meantime, I promise to be more careful."

"The Klingons have offered you the use of a cloak. Maybe you should take them up on it."

"Perhaps I should." She turned to face him. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I told you. I'm here to test the Flyer's newest upgrades."

"I assumed that was a ruse to cover up the fact that the admiral ordered you to check on me."

Paris blinked in surprise. Kathryn Janeway had approached him privately during Voyager's recent one-year reunion, but he'd promised not to reveal her involvement in his mission. He could still remember the day that the admiral had approached him about Seven's dangerous activities, right in the middle of a Federation reception.

"_Joe Trenton, Acropolis' captain, contacted me last week. You know that his ship has been assigned to look for the Free Borg with Seven's help?" Janweay paused and waited for Paris' nod of understanding. "He says that Seven is taking increasingly hazardous chances in their quest, resorting to solo search and rescue flights that put her life in danger." They had retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom while the party whirled on around them. "Several times, she's barely escaped from the Queen's drones with her life, and he thinks it's time to step back and reevaluate the situation." _

"_But Seven won't listen," Tom guessed. _

"_Of course not, and I'm worried sick about her state of mind. She still refuses to talk to me about Axum, she won't take a break from her search, and I'm afraid she might sacrifice her life to atone for the drones who've died." _

_"She always has had a guilt complex about assimilating people." _

_"She blames herself for failing to anticipate the Queen's campaign against the rebellious drones, and I think she lives in constant fear that she'll find Axum among the dead." She paused to give him a calculated look. "I've wondered if you'd be willing to take the Flyer out there and see how she's really doing?" _

"_I guess I could. I've wanted to test the new shield modulations in a tactical situation." _

"_I'll see if I can't set that up for you." _

Paris put those memories aside and studied Seven's cool blue eyes. "I have my own reasons for being here," he replied as he began to collect the dirty dishes. "The Flyer's shields worked better than ever, don't you agree?"

"Indeed. Without them, we couldn't remain in the nebula as long as we have."

"That's the good news. The bad news is that they've adapted to the new quantum torpedoes." He sighed and looked out at the gasses that swirled around the ship. "I'm worried about getting out of this nebula in one piece."

"As am I," she replied, returning to her work without further comment.

Paris stacked the dishes on the tray and headed below to work on the impulse drive. He knew that their situation would end one of two ways. Without warp drive, they couldn't think of leaving the nebula and facing a second attack from the Borg. They had to convince the Borg that the Flyer was beyond repair by playing dead, or they would have to restore impulse power and inch slowly away from their pursuers until Acropolis could come to their rescue. Either way, they were stuck in the nebula for awhile, a prospect that didn't make him happy.

He liked Seven better than most people did, but she'd been too deadly serious about her rescue mission for his taste. She might be happy spending a week or two playing a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with a Borg sphere, but Paris had a family to get back to on Earth, and the sooner the better. He looked at the shattered impulse engine in despair and silently cursed Janeway for sending him on this fool's errand.

On the command deck, Seven continued to work on the subspace transmitter. Concentrating on her work helped her ignore the nagging guilt and grief she felt for the Free Borg.

She remembered the last time she had been with Axum during the final moments that Unimatrix Zero had existed. She could still feel his arms around her, still recall the thrill she felt when he kissed her, still hear him promising to find her someday. She suspected that he'd spent the last two years trying to get to Voyager's location, and she worried that the Queen had found and destroyed his sphere in the meantime.

While the Free Borg drones were being hunted down, she'd been smug and secure in the safety of her Voyager collective, unaware of the fact that her fellow drones were being ruthlessly tracked down and killed. She had no right to be happy and safe when others like her died, and her current efforts were an atonement for her selfishness. Tears filled her eyes as she pushed herself to keep on working.

* * *

A few hours later, the Flyer "drifted" toward the far side of the nebula on minimal thrusters while Paris and Seven sat in the frigid darkness with little to do but think about their perilous future. The subspace transceiver was operational if and when they had the chance to use it and shields were holding against the vicious nebula gasses, but the impulse engines were beyond repair. They'd been forced to reduce their power usage to minimum levels with the hope that Acropolis would find them before it was too late, but in the meantime, they could do nothing but wait for something to happen. 

"So, Seven, don't you think it might be time to bring your crusade to an end?"

The former drone stared at him. "My crusade?"

"You know. Your effort to find the Unimatrix drones."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because the Queen has obviously decided to hunt you down, too."

"I can't let the Queen's acrimony keep me from my mission of saving them."

"Instead of putting your life on the line in a shuttle, you could increase Acropolis' sensor range the way we did on Voyager."

"I've already done that," Seven replied. "My solo flights extend the range of our search even farther and give Acropolis an added layer of protection. I was just unlucky this time."

Paris sighed as they lapsed into silence. He'd forgotten how difficult it could be to talk to Seven when she was in full Borg mode. However, he had his orders and wasn't about to face the admiral without attempting to determine Seven's real mental state.

"Some of us are worried that you're taking too many risks."

"By 'some of us,' you mean Admiral Janeway." She gave him an unwavering glare. "You need not deny it. She's commed me regularly to point out how dangerous my tactics are and to recommend 'less risky' procedures. She is the one who sent you out here to test the Flyer's modifications."

"Well, I admit that she suggested it, but that doesn't mean that she's the only one who's concerned about you. We all are—the whole crew. We missed you at the one-year reunion."

"I am not the type to celebrate such trivialities." She drew herself up into an even straighter posture. "And I doubt that you would pause if you were searching for B'Elanna."

"B'Elanna is my wife!"

"Axum and I were lovers in Unimatrix Zero."

"Lovers? I thought he was just a friend."

"We were together for nearly six years."

"Wow. I had no idea." He looked at the drone with a new sense of appreciation. "Six years."

"I didn't remember him or our involvement with each other until the doctor helped us retain our memories after our regeneration periods ended. Once I remembered our time together in Unimatrix Zero, I missed him terribly."

"And yet you hooked up with Chakotay."

"Hooked up?"

"You had a brief fling."

Seven narrowed her eyes. "You're implying that my connection to the commander was casual and temporary?"

"Wasn't it?" Paris could see that his characterization of her short love affair upset her. "You just told me that you loved and missed Axum. Weren't you being unfaithful to him when you got involved with Chakotay?"

Seven grew thoughtful and then nodded. "I see what you mean. I chose to become involved with the commander because he reminded me of Axum. I hoped to experience some of the intimacy I'd lost once Unimatrix Zero was destroyed."

"Huh. And here we all thought that you two got together because Chakotay gave up."

Seven looked perplexed. "Chakotay gave up what?"

"You're kidding, right?" Paris laughed out loud, his smile fading when he realized that Seven was truly in the dark. "You don't know?"

"I'm not the type to play dumb, Tom."

"Well, that's the truth." His grin widened. "It's just that you were so aware of every nuance of my relationship with B'Elanna that I figured you were aware of everyone else's feelings, too."

Seven shook her head. "Chakotay's relationship with B'Elanna was purely platonic."

"I'm talking about Chakotay and Janeway, Seven." When she continued to look at him in disbelief, he continued, "Early on, it was obvious that he was carrying a torch for her, but no one was really sure if the feeling was mutual."

"Carrying a torch?"

"He was in love with the captain, Seven, head over heels in love with her."

Before she could reply, a chirp from the sensors caught their attention, and Seven quickly analyzed the cause.

"The Borg sphere is starting an active scan of the nebula," she announced. "We will be scanned in less than two minutes."

"I'm cutting the thrusters and letting us drift," Paris replied. The Flyer's slow movement slowed, at the mercy of the eddy and flow of the nebula. "All stop."

The cockpit panels went from dim to dark as Seven's fingers flew over the engineering console. "I'm cutting all but the most essential power and life support."

"Let's hope they believe we're adrift."

The cockpit was lit only by the dim glow of the nebula's swirling gasses as the two friends waited for the Borg to complete their scan.

"Any sign that they're coming in after us?" Paris wondered, surprised to discover that he had been holding his breath.

"No changes in their status, but they haven't left, either."

"So far, so good. The longer we delay them, the more likely it is that Acropolis will arrive and chase them away."

"Perhaps. However, it's likely that the Borg have summoned reinforcements as well."

"You didn't have to bring that up, Seven."

They fell silent, and Paris was sure their earlier topic of discussion was forgotten, but then Seven said, "I saw no evidence of a romantic liaison between Chakotay and the captain."

"I never said there was one. But, you weren't there in the early days, right after the captain destroyed the Caretaker's array, or during the first few encounters with the Kazon and the Vidiians."

"Are you telling me that they were openly affectionate with each other?"

"Of course not. They're both well-trained Starfleet officers, after all, and not about to let us see the truth."

"The truth."

"He loved her, Seven. He always has. Surely you knew that."

"I didn't."

Paris shook his head. "Hard to believe. Maybe I saw it because I was with them on the bridge for countless hours, when they'd let their guard down. I saw how they interacted with each other in good times and bad, and there was always a spark there that was impossible to deny. They became friends almost at once, and for years, they flirted without mercy and whispered back and forth like kids. I really thought it was just a matter of time before they jumped each other's b—." He paused and cleared his throat, realizing that his jargon might not be appropriate, given the circumstances. "I thought they'd eventually consummate the relationship."

"Really?" Seven's eyes widened in surprise. "It was my understanding that the captain was engaged to a man back home."

"She was. But honestly, I think it was more her position as captain that kept her from pursuing Chakotay than her fiancé."

"And protocol?"

"Starfleet frowns on captains who become involved with subordinates, and I'm guessing Janeway decided to follow that guideline."

Seven grew thoughtful. "In many ways, I was attuned to the captain more than I was to anyone else, but I saw none of the usual signs of a romantic liaison in her or in the commander--no blushing, no dilation of the eyes, no increased respiration. What emotion I did see I attributed to the dynamic ebb and flow of their positions, not their personal desires."

"Because you didn't show up until they'd had three years of practice. By then, they'd come to terms with their predicament and moved on."

"Predicament? Explain."

"Well, in our second year, they spent six weeks alone on a planet because they were infected with an incurable disease."

"I heard about that."

"Six weeks alone on a planet, like Adam and Eve. Naturally, everyone assumed that they would--."

"Consummate their relationship," Seven finished for him. "Did they?"

"Who knows? When they returned to the ship, they were model Starfleet officers, all business. The playful banter pretty much disappeared, and the teasing and whispering on the bridge became the exception, not the rule. I always thought they'd become too close on that planet, way too close for a captain and first officer, and not many people can go back to just friendship once they've fallen in love with each other."

"So, they were no longer friends?"

"They were still friends, just more controlled, more repressed, more sad, in a strange way. And then we hit Borg space and everything fell apart."

"That would be when I joined the crew."

"Yeah. They had a couple of big fights over what we should do about the war between the Borg and species 8472. Janeway was determined to force the Borg to help us and furious with Chakotay when he broke the agreement she'd made. They let the whole situation become personal and both said things that couldn't be taken back." He shrugged. "Then, once you joined the crew, the captain focused her time on you and pushed Chakotay even further away."

Seven nodded, a faraway look in her eye. "Thank you for telling me this, Tom. I had no idea that their history was so convoluted. It explains a lot about the crew's reaction to me when I started dating the commander."

"We were shocked, to tell the truth. We thought that they would turn to each other once we got home, but then you and the commander started showing up together at functions while the captain struggled to accept what had happened."

"She struggled?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Janeway is always self-sufficient and controlled. I can't imagine that she would struggle because of my brief attachment to Chakotay."

"Well, she was in control and she seemed self-sufficient, but that was mostly an act she put on for the crew. She always needed Chakotay's friendship and support to do her job, and he was always there for her--until he started dating you, that is."

"And she struggled to adjust to his absence from her life?"

"Yes, she did. Looking back on it, I can see that they spent those first years figuring out just how far they could let their feelings for each other come into play before it interfered with their jobs. Gradually, they found a balance between friendship and formality that worked for them. Maybe they thought it was too late to explore anything else."

"Until they got home, you mean."

"I think they gave up on getting home, or at least Chakotay did."

"And he started seeing me because he gave up?"

"More or less."

"Why didn't Janeway just tell me this?"

"She thinks of you as part of her family, Seven, and stealing a family member's man is still taboo for most humans."

"She thinks of me as family?"

"You know she does, Seven. She worries about you as if you were her own daughter."

"And she struggled when she saw Chakotay and me together."

"Oh, yeah. I was there when you two left the ship together. I'd never seen her cry on the bridge until that day."

"She cried?"

"Well, not openly, but she brushed her eyes with her hands and then escaped into her ready room."

Seven frowned and turned back to her console. His words made her feel guilty, and, as usual, she escaped from those feelings by focusing on her work. "I think we can resume our crawl toward the far side of the nebula."

"I'll give the thrusters a quick burst and then shut them down," Tom answered as he slid into the pilot's seat. "How long before we drift far enough to use subspace?"

"At this rate, several days."

The Flyer lurched slightly and then settled into a gradual slide that took them farther away from the sphere. Paris skillfully tucked the ship into the prevailing swirls of the nebula, enhancing their speed and making it seem as if the natural direction of the gasses was responsible for their movement.

They both kept their eyes glued to the sensor readings, hoping that the sphere wouldn't decide to follow them.

In the silence of the cockpit, Seven's voice sounded apologetic. "I never meant to come between them, Tom. I was just lonely and curious, and I probably hurt everyone involved—Janeway, Chakotay, and Axum, too."

"I'm sure the admiral and Chakotay have forgiven you, and I imagine Axum will understand, once we find him."

"Do you really think we will find him?"

"I don't think you'll stop until you know what happened to him, Seven. That's the way it is when you love someone. You hope and plan and do whatever it takes to be there when and if things work out."

"Is that what happened with you and B'Elanna?"

Paris laughed. "It took a near-death experience for her to admit how she felt about me. And, yes, I would've waited however long it took for her to finally give in."

"I've wondered whether Axum has given up on me."

"I think he's out there, Seven, trying to find you."

To her embarrassment, Seven's eyes filled with tears. "I hope so."

"I know so."

She nodded and brushed the tears from her cheeks. "And what about the admiral and Chakotay? Are the rumors I hear about them true?"

"You talk to the admiral, right?"

"Every few weeks, I get a message from her and try to answer her questions, but we are too far from Earth for us to have a live conversation through subspace."

"Hasn't she told you about what's going on?"

"Our relationship was always more formal than you might have realized. I never talked to her about men. I was much more comfortable listening to the doctor about such things. And she never talked to me about her personal life."

Paris nodded. He couldn't picture her and Janeway discussing men or giggling about girly things, and there were few others from the crew with whom Seven talked on a regular basis. "You're out of touch with everyone else from Voyager?"

"The admiral says I'm obsessing about the Free Borg, and I suppose she's right. I completely forgot about Voyager's anniversary, and I don't bother to watch the news."

"Well, Chakotay was pretty sad when you broke up with him and started looking for Axum. He seemed lonely, so B'Elanna and I invited him to join us for dinner, for a picnic or two, and for other outings whenever we could. And then, one fateful night, we invited the admiral to join us, too." He gave her a wink.

"Because you wanted to get them together."

"More or less. I'd spent years listening to them flirt with each other and waiting for them to do something about their mutual attraction. I thought that getting them together in a non-Starfleet environment might just remind them of how much they enjoyed each other's company."

"Did it work? Or did it take a near-death experience for them to get together?"

"The way it did for B'Elanna and me?" Paris laughed. "No, they seemed to catch on pretty quickly."

"And you saw it happen?"

"More or less, although I'm really not a 'peeping' Tom."

"I didn't mean to imply that you spied on them," Seven replied, giving him a withering look.

"I couldn't hear everything they said, but the few things I did hear and their body language made it all pretty clear." His eyes took on a faraway look as he remembered. "We were at a cabin north of San Francisco for a long weekend and had invited them up for dinner on a Saturday night. We'd finished dinner and were sharing a drink on the patio when B'Elanna got called in to work. I excused myself to put Miral to bed, leaving them alone on the patio for awhile, probably the first time they'd been alone together in months. I was gone for awhile to get the baby's bottle and change her diaper, but I came back to use the rocker that was just inside the patio doors to feed and rock Miral to sleep. Of course, they were still on the patio. I didn't think to warn them that I was watching them.

"It didn't take long to realize that the air between them was charged with emotion. They were sitting on opposite sides of the patio table, not even looking at each other, and I figured they must have disagreed about something important, something personal. I heard Janeway say your name, Seven, and accuse him of keeping secrets from her."

Seven nodded. "The commander and I had agreed to keep our dating relationship quiet until we decided whether or not it was serious."

"Janeway obviously resented that. She said, 'I had to hear it from that witch from the future instead of you,' and jabbed a finger at him. He glared back at her and said something about not being able to repress his feelings for years the way she could. Janeway raised her voice so loud that I heard every word clearly: 'I was the captain! What did you expect me to do?'

"Chakotay stared at her for a long time and then shook his head. I don't know what he said, because his voice was so soft, but I could tell that he was discouraged and hurt by the way he looked down at the ground and slumped in his chair. He talked for a long time, probably telling one of his famous stories, and the longer he talked, the more Janeway melted. By the time he finished, I could see that there were tears on her cheeks.

"She reached across the table and took his hand, and he looked up and said her name." Paris laughed. "It was such a powerful moment that I couldn't bear to watch, so I shifted Miral on my shoulder and looked away. When I looked back, they were locked in a passionate kiss, and I must say that neither of them seemed a bit shy about using their hands to explore each other's--." He stopped and shook his head. "I realized that they needed to know they were being watched, so I deliberately knocked over the table that was holding the baby bottle."

Seven smiled. "What did they do?"

"What else? They stepped away from each other as quickly as possible, and then came inside. Both of them remembered that they needed to be somewhere else right away." He chuckled at the memory. "They beat a hasty retreat, let me tell you, and I have a pretty good idea that they continued their explorations elsewhere." He gave Seven a wink.

"So they really are together?" Seven asked.

"I thought you knew."

"I've heard rumors, of course, but I didn't know if it was true."

"They've been together ever since, and I wouldn't be surprised if they got married sooner or later."

Seven was greatly relieved to hear the news. "I'm glad everything worked out for them, in spite of my meddling."

The ship shuddered as weapons fire blazed past them like liquid lightening. Paris immediately brought the thrusters fully online and began to take evasive maneuvers. He glanced up at Seven, who was sitting at the tactical station and assessing the situation. "Are they finally coming after us?"

"No. What we saw was just a stray shot from a new battle outside the nebula," she told him, looking up with a smile. "We have company—the Acropolis and a couple of the Borg cubes we rescued a few months ago."

"No kidding? Looks like your good deeds are being rewarded."

"The sphere is heading away at full warp and is opening a transwarp conduit." She waited a brief moment. "They're gone."

"Good riddance." Paris turned the Flyer toward their rescuers. "Let's get out of here while the getting is good."

* * *

Two days later, Tom Paris and Seven of Nine walked through the Acropolis toward the shuttle bay where the Delta Flyer was waiting to take him back to Earth, his "testing" of the Flyer complete. 

"Are you sure you don't want to head back to Earth with me?" Paris asked her as they walked through the passageways. "I know the crew would love to see you."

"It's a tempting offer, but I believe I'll stay out here and continue my 'crusade.'"

"You'll stay on after Acropolis leaves?"

"These Borg are determined to help me, Tom. Our common goal gives us unity and purpose, in spite of our dissimilar origins."

As they waited for the turbolift, Paris envisioned the wide variety of species that populated the cubes and said, "A common goal. We learned the importance of that on Voyager."

"Yes, we did, and it's been even more crucial for the Free Borg."

They stepped onto the turbolift and ordered it to take them to shuttle bay two.

"Any special message for the admiral?" Tom wondered.

"Just tell her that I'm being careful and that she shouldn't worry about me. The Borg have worked too hard to earn their freedom to give it up without a fight. And she knows that this is something I must do."

"Maybe, once you find Axum, you'll find time to bring him back to Earth so the rest of us can meet him."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't busy on a similar crusade, wherever he is. Many of the drones that were freed by Unimatrix Zero are trapped on cubes of 300,000 drones or more, unable to join with enough others to escape from the Collective and sever their connection for good. With the training we've received from Voyager's EMH, we can help them escape and also rid them of as many implants as possible." She gave him a level look. "Finding them before the Queen does is quite literally a matter of life and death."

"I never thought about them being trapped like that."

The doors opened on the shuttle bay and they walked slowly toward the gleaming Delta Flyer.

"I never really thought about it either, while we were still on Voyager. It was only after we returned that I realized how dangerous their situation was."

"The admiral knows the Borg that are helping you, right? I don't much want to be the bearer of bad news."

Seven smiled. "She can be intimidating."

"And she can bust me a couple of ranks, too."

"Since we escaped the nebula and started toward Federation space, I've had a couple of long talks with the admiral—about everything. I think we understand each other better than ever before."

"Well, that's good."

They arrived at the Flyer, and Paris keyed open the hatch.

"She seemed happier and more at peace than I'd ever seen her, Tom. She told me that sharing her life with the man she loved was better than she ever expected it could be." She smiled slightly and glanced away. "She and Chakotay both hope I find the same happiness with Axum, if I find him."

Paris put a hand on her shoulder. "You'll find him."

"Thank you for coming out here and reminding me that I have a family from Voyager that is still concerned about me."

"Absolutely." His grin widened, "And I think that's the first time you've referred to the crew as your 'family' instead of your 'collective.'"

"Please tell my 'family' that I miss them and that I'll return to them safely."

"I'm holding you to that, Seven." He stepped into the Flyer and then turned to face her. "And I think Axum is a lucky man."

"Thanks, Tom." She blinked back tears. "But I'm the lucky one."

Paris gave her a brief wave and then closed the hatch, quickly launching the Flyer and setting a direct course for home at the highest possible speed. Once he was at cruising speed, he requested a subspace communication with Admiral Janeway. There was an unexpected delay, and he'd just realized that it was the middle of the night in San Francisco when Chakotay answered the hail. His loose shirt and tousled hair was evidence of the fact that he'd been fast asleep.

"Tom?" he croaked, and then cleared his throat. "Where are you?"

"I left Acropolis and put in this call before I realized what time it was there." He could feel the blush crawling up his neck. "I'll call back in a few hours."

"Don't you dare," came a familiar voice. Chakotay stepped aside to give Kathryn Janeway full access to the view screen. She pushed the tangled hair from her face and tightened the robe around her waist as she sat down at the desk. "I want you to tell me everything you saw and everything Seven said," she ordered, her smile nearly blinding him. "There's no time like the present."

"I'll get you a pot of coffee." Chakotay lovingly smoothed her hair. "And then I'm going back to bed. You can fill me in on the news tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, honey." Janeway watched him leave and then gave Paris her undivided attention. "How is she, Tom? Is she really all right?"

"She's better than all right, Admiral. She's a woman with a mission."

"But not suicidal?"

He gave her a saucy smile. "Not any more suicidal than a certain captain I once knew."

"Oh, her?" Kathryn Janeway laughed and her eyes sparkled with relief. "Well, that can't be so bad."

"She's determined to find Axum and every other Free Borg out there." He settled back for a long talk. "And she isn't going to give up until the job's done."

"Good for her."

And then, Tom Paris made his report, just as the admiral ordered.

The End


End file.
